Violets in Vegas: Sunday Morning Coming Down
by the morrighan
Summary: The clock is ticking as Detective John Sheppard races to save the world.
1. Chapter 1

Violets in Vegas: Sunday Morning Coming Down

_I remember exactly what I had been doing the day the world ended. Every detail, every sensation was implanted on my mind with laser focus. Of course I didn't know it was end of the world at the time. No one did. It had just been a typical lazy Sunday morning. Nothing out of the ordinary. A typical sunny day, already hot in the early hours. _

_Sunlight had been streaming through the lilac curtains, spreading cross the lilac sheets where Moira and I were entangled. I had been working my way down her body. A slow seduction, savoring every taste, every smell, every soft sound issuing from Moira's lips. I had just kissed my way beyond her belly button, was heading towards much more promising territory when the bed started to shake…_

**6:00am**

Moira O'Meara felt the bed move. At first she took no notice of this as John Sheppard was sliding along her body, trailing hot kisses along her skin as his fingers slid into very intimate areas. Nibbling on her nipple before sliding his tongue down her breast. The stubble on his face rough and erotic, evoking shivers of sensual surrender. But when the bed shook again, as did the entire house and John wasn't the cause of it as he hadn't gotten to even preliminary penetration yet she knew something was amiss. "John? John! Did you feel that?"

John lifted his head from her pelvis. "Yeah, the earth moved, baby, and I haven't even fucked you properly yet," he drawled, handsome face full of passion. A lop-sided smile curved his lips and his voice was deep, gruff. He lowered his head to continue, body tense with need, with hunger. A rumbling shook the bed. Made the windows shake. The odd clatter of glass in the frames alarming. John slid up, over her as everything violently shook. As if a giant hand had grabbed the house and was jostling it like a toy. "Earthquake?" he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the sudden cacophony.

"How observant of you, detective," Moira noted, causing a scowl to appear on his handsome face. "We don't get earthquakes in Nevada." Nevertheless she hung onto him as the bed was slightly sliding on the floor.

"Apparently we do now, doctor." John looked over as his phone buzzed on the bedside table. Books were swaying like drunken sailors, then falling one after the other in a domino effect. The lilac curtains were trembling, causing the sunlight to filter through them in broken waves, as if they were under the ocean. Then all was still. John waited to be sure. A bird began to sing. John rolled off Moira to grab his phone.

Moira scooted up as well. She grabbed the remote and turned on the television. Reports were coming in on every channel, showing the city shaking, people running in the streets, but there was only minor damage and no serious injuries. "John, look! It was an earthquake, but not a large one. The epicenter must be miles away since we're not on a fault line here or even near one. It must have been pretty strong for us to feel it here, though. John? John?"

John was silent. Staring at his phone. Sunlight bounced off the screen and he angled it to see the terse text message flashing there. The letter all in capitals, in bold relief against the pale ground.

**TODD ESCAPED**

Moira had to smile despite the severity of the situation. Despite the calamity unfolding she couldn't help but smile. John had been sprawled on her bed, still naked, on the phone giving orders. Calling Evan and Carson to meet at the facility, calling Rodney to confirm the text but he was unavailable so he was forced to talk to Richard. Calling the precinct and making sure that cops were out in the city securing it from looters as Hendricks was unavailable. He reminded Moira of a colonel rallying the troops, his voice curt, crisp and allowing no one to even reply or question. All the while the sunlight playing over the contours of his broad shoulders, his broad back, narrow hips, long legs and that firm, firm ass.

John had seen her smirking at him. Out of the corner of his eye he had caught the amusement sparkling in her brown eyes. Also the brazen stare along his body. Her long brown hair was a tangled mess around her naked body as she sat, watching him. He had tossed the phone aside with a grunt, grabbed her and produced to finish what had been interrupted. After some very quick but very satisfying sex they quickly showered, got dressed and were on their way to the facility. There was more than one way to make the bed shake, after all.

At least John didn't have to go across town to get his things or his clothes. Little by little he had been moving in with her, although if asked he would vehemently deny it. As he began to stay over almost every night Moira quietly made room for him. She had cleared half of the bathroom counter for him. She had emptied a few dresser drawers and had left them open for him to see. She had cleared part of her closet and had left the door open for him to see the waiting space. All the while not saying a word, not speaking about moving in at all, as if afraid to spook him. It was like taming a wild animal, so she was cautious, careful, and didn't bring up the subject at all.

John knew what he was doing, of course. He knew he was gradually moving in with her. He just couldn't say it. As if afraid to acknowledge it, or to have her refuse him. But she had made room, given him space and more space and he gradually took it. It had nothing to do with feelings and more to do with practicality. Since he was sleeping over more and more he needed to have this stuff with him. An overnight bag. Then his clothes so he could get to work on time. Then his personal stuff so he could shower there as well, and numerous products because hair like his took time and a certain skill that couldn't be rushed.

More and more of his life filtered into her home, her bedroom, her life as well. But he still kept paying the rent on his apartment, although it was becoming emptier and emptier. He knew he was inching closer and closer to that most perilous of decisions. A proposal. But he wasn't sure how she would react, even how he would. Given their tragic pasts he wasn't sure if either of them was ready for that great leap forward yet. So he inched closer and closer, seeing how things progressed. His decision entirely rested on two things. Putting up his Johnny Cash poster and getting rid of all that lilac in their bedroom.

The radio was full of voices instead of music. All clamoring about the earthquake and the aftershocks and the residual damage and the threat of a violent storm heading down from the north. John switched off the radio. He glanced at Moira. She appeared thoughtful. Professional in her gray t-shirt and black jeans. The t-shirt had some kind of Celtic design in studded metal beads which drew his gaze to linger on her breasts. Her long hair was trapped in a ponytail. He smiled, recalling how swiftly she had gotten dressed. Recalling the glimpse he had gotten of a satin peach-colored bra and panties before she had covered herself. "Any ideas?"

Moira shrugged, breaking out of her reverie. She glanced at him. His burgundy shirt was open, giving her an enticing view of his chest. His black jacket and slacks were severe and only mildly rumpled. She glanced at his crotch, recalling the purple and white striped boxers he had donned. "None. You meant about Todd?"

"No. I meant about the new décor we need to get for the bedroom. Yes, I meant Todd!"

She smiled. "Funny. The lilac stays, detective. Where would he go?"

"It stays? That's unacceptable, Moira." He sighed, staring out the windshield again. He increased speed as they were free of the city. Miles of desert stretched before them. The sun was rising higher, higher now, a gold ball in the sky baking the land dry. Yellow shades dominated. The heat was a blanket, stifling the air, killing the small breeze as the car flew along the bumpy road. "We'll find out soon enough. They must have placed a tracking device on him, right? It's SOP for violent criminals."

"Maybe for you, detective, but not for a secret government agency. What if they never imagined he would escape? That their holding cell was secure?"

"Crap," John muttered, realizing she was probably right. "Moira, this could go south pretty damn fast."

"Meaning?" She looked at him. Admired his handsome profile as he stared ahead of them. Even though he had shaved the whisper of stubble promised to emerge later that same day. The strong lines of his jaw and chin luring the eyes to that perfect, perfect mouth. Lips composed in a line as his mind raced with possibilities. His green eyes on the road, brows furrowing in thought. His hands gripping the steering wheel as he guided the vehicle around the worst of the potholes. Long fingers flexing, relaxing, gripping the wheel firmly.

John met her gaze. Expression stern. "Meaning we may find ourselves in a whole new world in twenty-four hours unless we can catch this thing."


	2. Chapter 2

Violets in Vegas: Sunday Morning Coming Down2

_I didn't know how accurate my words had been in the car. I had been racing to prevent a disaster that was already out of my hands. Little had I known that this was the last day of normalcy. I wondered if I would have done things differently that day, had I known. I would have taken Moira out to lunch. Or more than likely I would have spent the day having hours of exuberant sex with her. It wouldn't have changed the outcome either way._

_Except for Moira, that is._

It was a scene of chaos. Squads of men and women were running all over the building, toting stunners and AK-47s and P90s and even things that John couldn't put a name to yet. Alarms were screaming, flashing red lights at every corner. Water was pouring from the sprinklers on the ceiling. Something had set off the fire alarms and it rained down in cold droplets, pooling on the floors.

John guided Moira through the mess, grabbed a man's arm. "McKay?" he snapped.

"Level two!"

John freed him, guided Moira ahead of him past the swarm of weaponry. They descended the stairs. The steps were slick with water, causing both to momentarily slide but they regained their footing and headed down the shadowy, wet hallway. John paused to slam his fist on an intercom. "Somebody turn off these damn alarms and this damn water!"

Carson Beckett was heading for them, expression grim. White lab coat drenched with water and disturbing streaks of blood. "John, thank God! Too late," he sighed, shaking his head. Blue eyes full of sorrow. He moved past them.

John and Moira exchanged a glance. Quickly they entered the room where the holding cell was contained. John's fingers tightening around Moira's. Both froze.

It was a tableau of black and blue. The room was cast into darkness, except for the blue light shining down onto the empty cell. And the three bodies around it. Water was falling, spitting across the air, shimmering blue raindrops that misted and fell to make the floor slick and shiny. If there had been blood it would have run in crimson rivers, but there was no blood. Not a single, solitary drop.

The drained bodies of two guards were strewn to either side of the open doorway of the cell. Limbs at odd angles, necks twisted but that wasn't what had killed them. What had killed them was all too evident as every drop of moisture was gone, leaving dried, desiccate shells of stretched skin over bones. Aged beyond belief. Their badges displayed pictures of such younger men you would think they were their grandsons, not themselves. Wisps of white hair reflected the blue light weakly.

The body of a woman was a few feet from the cell. John could see the lines in the water, that it had been dragged there from the open door. One shoe had dropped off and was on its side in a pool of water. The white lab coat concealed most of the depletion of her youth, except for the wisps of blond hair shining amid the gray. Bright blue eye shadow was a garish smear on the dried eyelids. Mercifully closed over unseeing eyes.

Rodney McKay was kneeling in the water, near the body of Jennifer Keller. His wife. Blue light showered down on his hunched shoulders, his thinning hair, the stripes on his dark tie. Glinted on his wedding ring, the simple gold band encircling one finger. On his bowed head as he stared at her, his expression colored by darkness, concealed by the shadows.

John and Moira slowly neared. Moira taking in the doctor's delicate features, still discernible despite the rapid aging and the depletion of bodily fluids, of life itself. John was scanning round the room, then the cell. Then the ceiling where a few tiles were askew, revealing a black opening, a black square amid the darkness of the room. An escape route.

Moira tried to move ahead but John halted her. The sight of the lab coat disturbing him. His grip tightened on her a moment, as if to make sure she was real, she was fine and with him, unharmed. Safe. A shiver skimmed along his skin but he shook it off, focusing on the feel of her warm skin under his fingers.

Moira pulled free of his grasp after meeting his somber gaze. Puzzled by his sudden display of affection, emotion. She stepped to the physicist. Touched his shoulder gently. Nevertheless he flinched as if hit. "Rodney. I'm so sorry. So very sorry."

"How?" John asked. He didn't have time for niceties as he once more canvassed the crime scene.

Rodney moved to his feet slowly. Shock and anger on his face. Sorrow in his eyes which were wet from the sprinklers and his tears. "We're not sure. The security footage is fried. What it did catch is him overpowering the two guards and taking his fill. He moved so fast he was a blur in most of the shots…and he went out to the hall, we think. We've searched the entire facility but he's gone."

"How?" John repeated, not satisfied. "He didn't go out. He went up." John pointed at the opening in the ceiling. "So how?" John suspected just by what Rodney didn't say. He recognized the guilt on the other man's face all too readily.

"John, please, you don't have to—" Moira began, as if she recognized it as well.

"How?" John snapped angrily, brushing aside Moira's gentle admonishment.

"She let him out." Rodney's voice was toneless as his gaze dropped to the floor. The words hurt. Were hard to say. He glanced back at the body, then away from it. "Used my code. I didn't give it to her, but I allowed her to be here to…" The rest of the explanation fell away into silence, darkness, guilt.

"He must have been controlling her mind, or made her see something that wasn't real," Moira reasoned. Her touch on Rodney's arm comforting. Consoling.

"No. She did it of her own volition."

"John!" Moira warned, appalled at his detachment, his seeming cruelty.

"You're probably right, but let's just say he controlled her, for now," Rodney stated. A glimmer of dark humor coming and going.

"Of course, Rodney," Moira soothed, glaring at John.

"Sorry," John said, voice gruff, but he seemed to be apologizing to Moira instead of Rodney. "There's no time for gentleness, Moira. We need to bring up all of the footage of him leading up to this moment. And don't tell me you don't have every nanosecond of his captivity recorded because I know you do."

Rodney met his gaze. "Except for when you tortured him."

"Yeah, except for that," John agreed, not reacting at all.

"What makes you think he went up through the ceiling?" Rodney asked. "The door is right there. The way to freedom."

"No. He went out there only to trigger the automatic alarms and the sprinklers. To cause chaos and confusion while he made his way up through the air ducts and out of here undetected. I will need a full schematic of this facility and Lorne will go over every inch to find every viable egress point from this point."

"But what makes you think he went up in the first place?" Rodney persisted. Either the flaw in logic or the grief was making him stubborn over this one sticking point.

John appeared reluctant to answer. "Nursery rhymes."

"Excuse me?" Rodney asked. The other man's voice had been low, quiet, but audible. It was the words that had provoked the reaction of disbelief. He glanced at Moira but she appeared unperturbed. As if she had heard this wild theory already.

"You heard. He told me. The whole fucking plan, but in nursery rhymes. I'll explain in the debrief with all teams, say, in ten?" He checked his watch. "I need to check in with LVPD and make sure nothing else has happened yet. I need all that footage, Rodney and everything else I asked for ASAP. Check your inventory in case he took anything with him. Anything at all."

"Fine. We're already doing most of that. We'll find him, John. He won't be easy to locate, but we will find him. Why do you need to see all of those tapes? What exactly do you think you will find?"

"The answer. The answer to where he's gone."


	3. Chapter 3

Violets in Vegas: Sunday Morning Coming Down3

_The bastard had been clever. I had to give him that. Biding his time in that cell, exhibiting infinite patience, enduring infinite suffering. Believing that all these humans were beneath him, were nothing more than cattle to be herded to his plan, to be guided and driven to where he needed them to be. For the final slaughter._

_All except me. For some reason Todd had an affinity for me, this one man. His nemesis. And so he had talked to me as he talked to no one else. Revealing his plans but in damn nursery rhymes as if to test me. To see how clever I really was. Certainly to taunt me. To learn all he could about his most heinous enemy. And how to break me. I only realized that when it was too late._

The sit-rep room was a jumble of voices and people clustering. Maps were displayed on screens all over the walls. Maps of the facility itself, of the surrounding environs. Maps of Vegas and of Nevada itself. Areas on all of them highlighted in red, in green, in blue. Various circles and dots marking points of egress, of ingress. Of weapons and power areas. Of the trajectories of the other Wraiths that had been caught, one by one.

It was a hub-bub of activity and raised voices and Moira froze on the threshold knowing she didn't belong here. Knowing she had nothing to contribute, nothing to add and desperately wishing she was anywhere else but here. John touched the small of her back. Gave a gentle push and guided her into the room. He guided her past the humming computers and charts to a console in the back.

"Sit." He stood behind her, hands on her shoulders as she perched on the chair. He swiveled it so she was facing a screen instead of the people crowding the room. He leaned close to her ear. "These are all the security tapes. All of them, even the ones you probably don't want to see, but I need you to see them, Moira. I need you to go through them and take note of everything Todd says and does. Especially what he says. Even if it sounds like nonsense. I think he was leaving clues all along, in that jumble of nonsense. I've seen this before, in serial killers. The analogy certainly applies here. They can't help but brag about their plans and taunt us."

Moira met his gaze. "You think he had a plan all along."

"Yes. From day one. Find his location. Find out what he is planning to do. Moira, I'm counting on you." He moved a set of headphones to her.

She eyed the screen. The blinking cursor. "I..um…okay, John." She doubted she could be of any help, but John seemed to think she would be.

"Thanks, baby." He brushed his lips along her cheek. Nibbled her earlobe and then straightened. He saw Elizabeth Weir watching them. Watching his ass, more specifically. He didn't care. He moved to the front of the room. Clapped his hands loudly. Silence fell like a rock. The only sound was the whirring of the air conditioner. "How many teams do we have?"

Steven Caldwell glared. He was clad in a TAC vest and full combat gear, much like the majority of the people in the room. "Five."

"Deployed where?"

"Two still canvassing the immediate area. Two are scanning the facility itself. One is on a grid recon in the desert. Now if you don't mind I need to get back to—"

"I do mind, actually. You may have run covert ops but you've never run a search for a killer heading for the city precincts. I have."

"You think he's heading for the city?" Elizabeth asked.

"Wouldn't you?" John quipped.

"He's not human, Sheppard. He's a Wraith."

"I know," John stated to Steven's caustic correction. "I also know whatever he's after it is in the city. All of this time it's been under our noses."

"What has?" Richard Woolsey asked, as puzzled as the others.

"Everything. And what I don't know yet I soon will." He glanced past them all to Moira who was watching the screen, listening to him as well as to the headphones.

"Gee, Sheppard, could you be any vaguer?"

"Yeah, Caldwell, I could." He moved to a screen displaying a map of the city. "Big picture. Forget the details. Someone told me you can get bogged down in them and we need to see past all of that to see the big picture." He glanced at Moira again. She had paused the screen image. Had the headphones half off her and was watching him now. She softly smiled. He returned the smile. Eyed the map again. Snatched a laser pointer from the table. Began to make striations on the map with the red light. "Every one of those things has had a similar trajectory. Lorne?"

Evan blinked. "They have all followed the power lines of the city. From way out in the desert for that first mission, if you will, all the way to Vegas itself." As Evan spoke John guided the beam of light along the map, bringing it closer, closer to the city itself.

"Exactly. Not to the heart of Vegas, no. But towards its main power plants."

"Why didn't I see that?"

Everyone turned at the quiet voice to see Rodney standing on the threshold of the room.

"Because like all of us you were focused on the details and not the bigger picture," John explained.

"It makes perfect sense now." Rodney entered the room. "There are several components stolen from the Darts we managed to recover. The air ducts lead straight to there from the cell, and back again, then up to a ventilation shaft that leads up to the dessert. Impossible for a human to access and climb, but not for a Wraith. Especially a Wraith that has recently fed, and fed well." He paused, submerging his grief and guilt.

"He's building a communication device," Richard stated into the uncomfortable silence.

"No. Well, yes, but something else as well. Something beyond transmitting across long distances of time and space. Something that will require an enormous amount of power, even more than a ZPM or a naquadah generator would be able to focus in a simplified burst."

"Whoa, what the hell is a Zed pm and a knock knock generator?" John asked.

"Did you read any of that file I gave you?" Rodney snapped.

"He's way behind on his reading," Moira stated, shaking her head at John who shrugged and shot her his not helping look.

"So he's looking for power. A lot of power, correct?"

"Yes. For one reason," Rodney stated.

"The rift," Richard said.

"Yes." Rodney met John's gaze. "He's going to try to open the rift."

The chorus of voices and protest died down as John raised a hand. "Can he do that?"

"No."

"No? You sound awfully sure," John accused, eyes narrowing.

"I am. At least he won't be able to do it for several hours. Not until this evening. And he'll need time to put together whatever the hell it is he's making. I believe it will be some sort of focusing mechanism to contain and draw all the power he will need."

"Which brings us back to the power plants around the city," John reasoned.

"Yes. And no."

John sighed. Looked at Moira. "Do all scientists talk like this?"

"Is there enough power in the city to do that? To open the rift?" Evan asked. As confused as John over the terminology, but at least he had read the files.

"Theoretically? Yes." Rodney sighed. "Along with sending a signal at the right moment he will need to cut a tear into the rip that already exists in the space/time continuum. The rift. I don't think he could open it for any length of time."

"But enough time for to get a Hive ship through the rift? Because you can bet they're working on that on their end. We know one of those signals the first one sent got through, to one of the alternate realities. We just don't know which one or how far or even when," Richard explained.

"Then it hasn't happened yet." All eyes swung to Carson as he stood in the back of the room. Arms folded across his a clean lab coat he wore. "They're waiting."

"Waiting for what?" Richard asked.

"They're waiting for the initial reports," Evan and John said at the same time. Exchanged a glance.

"Exactly. This was a scouting party," Carson explained. "Gather all intel you can to see if a mission is viable. Isn't that what you military types do?"

"Recon," John agreed. "And now they are moving forward to the next step."

"Which is?" Richard asked.

John's expression was grim. "Invasion."


	4. Chapter 4

Violets in Vegas: Sunday Morning Coming Down4

_Even knowing what was coming couldn't prevent it. We were running out of time. Wasting precious time locked in discussion, in argument, in exposition. I even realized it then, but was unable to halt the inexorable march as we went through every scenario. Trying desperately to figure out Todd's plan. Time was ticking by on the clock but it was already too late. It was already done._

**7:00am**

The burst of raised voices and shouting was once more quelled by John's raised hand.

"That's impossible!" Richard managed to stutter. He rose to his feet. Indignant. "The rift couldn't sustain itself that long! It is highly unstable. McKay?"

"This is true," Rodney agreed, "under normal conditions it wouldn't last long enough to get a Hive ship through it."

"It would only take one or two Hive ships to decimate this planet," Evan stated gloomily. "Those things are huge and hold hundreds of Wraith. Hundreds."

"Wait, back up a sec. These aren't normal conditions?"

"No, John. Those fluctuations I've been monitoring. They've gotten worse. Much worse." He stepped to the front of the room, taking the laser pointer from John who stepped aside. The map of Vegas was replaced by a map of the Earth as seen from space. Wavy colored lines surrounded it in an elliptical shape. "This is Earth's magnetic field, the geomagnetic field which extends tens of thousands of kilometers into space from our magnetic sphere. It is at least 3.5 billion years old. It protects the Earth from the solar winds and space storms."

"Solar winds?" John asked, making a pained expression.

"Yes. The solar wind is a stream of energetic charged particles emanating from the sun. Some of these particles are trapped in the Van Allen radiation belt. This radiation belt is a torus of energetic particles around the Earth, held in place by Earth's magnetic field. These fields are not uniformly distributed around our planet. So you see what is happening."

There was silence. So absolute the dripping of water could be heard. John grimaced. "Pray, do tell us, please," he invited reluctantly, circling the room and coming to stand next to Moira. He knew when to lead the room and when to give the floor over to the experts. He leaned on the table, arms crossed over his chest.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Isn't it obvious? Those fluctuations I've been tracking! Look, the Van Allen belt isn't uniform!" He used the laser pointer on the map of the Earth. "On the sunward side it is compressed because of the solar wind, but on the other side it is elongated towards 3 Earth radii. These processes create a cavity, the Chapman-Ferrono Cavity where the Van Allen belt resides. The belt is actually split into two belts, two distinct belts with energetic electrons forming the outer belt and a combination of protons and electrons forming the inner one. Both belts are closely rotating to the polar aurora where particles strike the upper atmosphere and fluoresce." He finished, smiled a moment.

"I know I will regret asking this," John muttered. "And? Significance?"

"Significance? Isn't it obvious?" Rodney repeated, shaking his head.

"The fluctuations," Evan said suddenly. "There not normal. Not just anomalous."

"Bingo! I didn't see it before because it was so slight, but it's been increasing with a startling momentum."

"And that's what caused all those birds to die," Moira realized. "They use the magnetic field to navigate and any disruption can cause irreparable harm."

"Yes!" Rodney nodded. "It's all down to betatron acceleration."

Another long silence. John licked his lips. Glanced at Moira but she appeared mystified as well. "And?" he was forced to prompt.

"And that explains everything…to a point. I believe that whatever this—"

"Whoa, how? And shorten it, okay?"

"Okay. The betatron acceleration is the acceleration of particles by a changing magnetic field. These changes give particles such as electrons an energy boost and send them corkscrewing through space at high speeds. It forms on Earth's night side, a space storm, if you will, and the energy builds up by strong, shifting magnetic fields close to Earth, to us, and if I'm right and I know I am the tear in the rift is forming a sort of nebula which is violently accelerating the charged particles and the magnetic fields. Do you see now? All of that energy is forming a strong electric field, and that field, if manipulated can produce a high-energy beam that could open the rift permanently!"

"That was shorter?" Evan quipped quietly.

"And Todd is going to be the manipulator, using the tech he stole and the power from the city," John realized at last, grasping the gist of it.

"Yes! I mean, yes," Rodney lowered his voice. The science had taken him away, taken him away from the sorrow and guilt. The sudden threat facing the planet sobered him. The death of his wife was a shadow on him, however.

"Okay." John stepped to the front of the room again. Mind furiously working as the map dissolved from the Earth to Vegas again. "What's our timetable on this? I mean on all this science stuff?"

Rodney thought. Snapped his fingers. "Tonight. The lunar eclipse is tonight. He will have to wait for us to be on the dark side instead of the sun side, so to speak. The—"

"McKay! You have to see this!" A man ran into the room. "There's an aurora!"

"Yes, I know, they have been more frequent in the polar regions now because of the—"

"No! It's right here! There's an aurora in Nevada!"

The sky was yellow. The heat of the morning washing down, unhindered. But in the distance, in the upper regions of the atmosphere colored waves of light were dancing. Undulating waves of red and green which were normally only seen near the poles were on display in the middle of the desert, in the middle of America.

"Good God…is that natural?" Richard asked, as the group stood staring at the sky.

"Yes. It's caused by the collision of charged particles directed by the Earth's magnetic field, in the ionosphere resulting from emissions of photons in the upper atmosphere above 50 kilometers from ionized nitrogen atoms regaining an electron and oxygen and nitrogen atoms being charged to an excited state from a ground state." He saw John's pained expression. Added quietly, "we just don't see them this far south of the pole, is all."

"Could these disruptions also be causing the earthquakes and tornadoes and floods?"

"No. There has been an increase in the severity of storms, year by year, and in earthquakes. The tectonic plates are shifting. It could be a result of global warming and the shift in our axis and rotation. This has nothing to do with that."

"But will it?" Moira was staring at the display as she spoke. "If the rift is opened for that long, forming a nebula, as you said…what would be the effects on an already stressed Earth? Tidal shifts? Tectonic shifts? Increasing severity of storms? An increase of temperature even by a few degrees could be disastrous for the planet. A rise in sea levels would be catastrophic."

"I don't know what the effects would be," Rodney had to admit.

"Then we better stop this thing before it starts." John eyed the group. "Let's go! We have work to do, and pretty damn fast too! We only have twelve hours, people! Moira, please keep reviewing those tapes. Lorne, I need a full schematic of the city and all of its main power stations and grids. Caldwell, Weir, get your people ready to move out on my mark. McKay, we need a target. Where will Todd go to build this energy beam thing? I need that location now! I will alert LVPD and get them on the job! Let's go, people!"

The group dispersed, heading back into the building.

Richard stopped, turned to John. "You know, these doomsday predictions are only a worse-case scenario. There's no way any of that could happen. The rift is too unstable."

"And what if it isn't? If we don't find Todd and stop him from doing whatever he is planning to do it will be the end of the world as we know it."


	5. Chapter 5

Violets in Vegas: Sunday Morning Coming Down5

_All that wasted time. I rued that wasted time. I wondered if it would have made any difference, if we had found Todd sooner. Had stopped his heinous plan and destroyed that damn machine in time. Would the consequences have changed, or remained the same? I didn't know. I didn't have time to philosophize about it. I could feel the clock ticking, ticking. And I knew if we didn't succeed now we never would._

John pocketed his phone. "Done. I've put out high alerts on the five major power plants that provide the city with what it needs. Terrorist threat. We won't make it easy for him." John stood in the sit-rep room. Waiting for intel. Waiting for his people to deliver what he needed before he could take action.

Carson touched a console. It hummed under his fingers. "I've inputted his DNA to each handheld scanner's specifications, but I don't know if it will work. If only they had put a damn tracking device on him!"

"I know," John agreed. Ran a hand through his hair. "At least you've narrowed the search grid. Lorne?"

Evan shrugged, shoved a map across the table. "Trajectories for all five power plants from this facility. He could approach from any angle out of the desert, but once he hits the city his routes are pretty predictable. I also aligned the farther power plants just in case. I even included Area 51. It'd be funny if he went there, huh?"

"There are no aliens in Area 51," Rodney informed. "The whole thing was a hoax perpetuated by the Russians during the Cold War. I know. I was disappointed too."

"Really? So Roswell, the crash…it was all a hoax?" Evan asked.

"Afraid so. I've been narrowing the parameters of potential targets. Exactly what does he need? That would depend on what he's planning to do. I'm thinking a central location, but maybe not."

"Is the rift in a fixed position in space?"

"No. That's the thing. It can shift in space and in time…but it can be tracked by that tear in it. By the electrical signature once it's activated."

"Great," John muttered. Glanced across the room as Moira. She was locked in her own little world, watching the screen, headphones on as she listened to hours of Todd's rambling nonsense. "Keep working on it. I need a location ASAP. We just have to wait until the first dead body shows up."

"What? You think he'd be that careless?" Evan asked.

"Shit." No sooner had John spoken the words than his phone buzzed. He checked it. "And here's the first one. Son of a bitch!"

"I thought he would be smarter than that," Rodney observed.

"He is. He's just toying with us now. With me. I gotta go. Call me if you get anything, otherwise I'll be back shortly." He glanced at Moira again. Left. 

"Wait, don't tell me. The return of the Vegas Vampire?"

John scowled at the words as he approached the crime scene. Yellow tape marked off a parking lot on the outskirts of town. A strip mall, of all places, with stores and hair salons and of course the inevitable tiny casino and strip joint. John made his way past gawkers and cops and parked cars to stare down at the body. It was completely drained of all fluids, aged and disgusting.

His gaze shot to DeMouy as she stood, spoke. "Dumped in the open like this. What does it mean?"

"That he doesn't care. He wants us to know he doesn't fear us. It's a game to him now."

"Sicko," DeMouy muttered, shaking her head.

"Yeah," John agreed.

"No, him." The Asian woman pointed towards a group of gawkers. A few were taking pictures of the corpse with their cell phones. Others were grinning, acting like it was some kind of holiday. "They keep chanting about the end of days and other nonsense."

John looked round, almost expecting to see Todd's face in the crowd. "Any ID?"

"None. It's pretty clear to me, John. We have a copycat again."

"Looks like it," John stated. He glanced at the sky. Back to the gawkers. Suspecting there were Wraith sympathizers mixed among them. "Sayles! Round them up and charge them with obstruction!"

"All of them?" the policeman asked, baffled.

"All of them!" John insisted, even as a few began to melt out of the crowd and away from the crime scene.

"Damn it, Sheppard!" John whirled at the irate voice of his boss. Hendricks was charging towards him like a bull in a temper. "I thought you had this case wrapped up!"

John replied evenly, "I did. Now we've got a copycat and a partner to deal with, hell, maybe a whole cult of whatever this is. I'm not sure what the—"

"Well get sure and find this guy or guys or cult, will you? Use whatever resources you deem necessary, including that FBI guy or whoever he really is! Yes," Hendricks said to John's quick expression of guarded surprise, "I know that guy wasn't the FBI. That Woolsey is something, but he's not FBI. I know those teams of yours weren't Animal Control either! What the hell is going on, Sheppard?"

John had been dreading this. Knew it was inevitable, this confrontation as his two jobs collided and conflicted. He removed his shades to meet the glare of Hendricks. "Honestly, I can't tell you. It's some government thing. They approached me a while back."

"And you're only telling me this now?"

"Yeah. It's…complicated. This serial killer isn't like any we have ever encountered. This one is working in concert with a few partners…and groupies, believe it or not." Hendricks just stared at him, assessing. John was telling the truth, as far as he was able. "He's very smart, almost impossible to track or trace. He leaves no forensics behind. But we will catch him, sir. These people I'm working with now, they are the best at what they do. We'll catch him."

Hendricks didn't appear convinced. "See that you do, Sheppard. I'll give you one day, and then I will have to call in the real FBI. We aren't equipped to handle this kind of killer, if he's half of what you say he is. The mayor's breathing down my neck and we need to avoid a widespread panic! This town's economy will take a major nosedive if we don't solve this fast! Got it?"

"Got it," John agreed.

"Then get to work! DeMouy! Get that thing outta here!" Hendricks shouted, moving towards her. "Danville! I want all those fucking cell phones confiscated now! Arrest anyone who resists! I don't want this on the six o'clock news! Sheppard! Why aren't you moving?"

John restored his shades to his face, shielding his eyes from the incessant glare of the sun. Heat was drenching him like a moist blanket. The sky was a shade of orange more appropriate to sunset but it was still morning and the color was disturbing. John's clothes were sticking to him and he felt uncomfortable. He headed for his car.

A headache was forming and he scowled. But it was nothing compared to the escape of Todd. That damn Wraith was causing one headache after another. John knew there would be more bodies. He knew that Todd hadn't finished by far. The Wraith was taunting him to play a game. But John wouldn't play. Not by the rules, anyway.

John was playing for keeps. And that meant that Todd had to die.


	6. Chapter 6

Violets in Vegas: Sunday Morning Coming Down6

_Too much was happening too fast. I had to be two places at once, had to make quick decisions as to what to do, where to go. How much to reveal and how much to suppress. All the while waiting, waiting for my team to get the job done, to find Todd's location, figure out his plan, figure out everything so I could act and act fast. _

_I had every faith in my team. Not so much in myself._

Moira sighed. She removed the headphones. Fussed with her hair and rubbed her eyes, her ears. Hours of listening and watching Todd had left her oddly drained. He was fascinating, this alien creature. The way he moved around in the cell. The way he could stand absolutely motionless for hours and hours. His voice was melodious, haunting in its rises and falls. But the chuckle was creepy, more so when it was right in her ear like that. She switched off the computer. She glanced at the pad of paper. It was filled with jumbled notes, some of which even she couldn't decipher. She stood and stretched her aching limbs and back.

Hearing a noise she whirled, grabbing the pad of paper off the table. "Evan?"

Evan was standing in the doorway, watching her. He coughed, entered the room, suddenly embarrassed by his lurid interest. "Anything?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. I have to go over my notes first before I talk to John."

"You could run them by me," he offered, gaze traveling over her again.

Moira felt uncomfortable suddenly, although she knew it was foolish. "No. Are you finished with the maps yet?"

"Not yet." He shut the door, gaze perusing her again. "You know, Moira, you used to bounce things off me all of the time. Your newest discoveries or latest theories." Moira shrugged, not knowing what to say. Her gaze darted to the closed door, back to Evan as he began to walk around the table, towards her. "In fact you used to bounce yourself off me as well."

She frowned. Ignored the comment. "John asked me to review all of these tapes of Todd and take note of everything he said, and I have. Shouldn't you be working on a trajectory?"

Evan smiled, reaching her. He took the pad from her hands, tossed it onto the table. "I thought I was, Moira." He touched her arms, abruptly yanked her into a kiss.

Moira struggled, pushed free. Flustered and surprised. "Evan! What the hell are you doing?"

"Do I really need to tell you, Moira? I don't know what it is, but ever since you've hooked up with Sheppard you look…I don't know…you look desirable."

She frowned. "Back off, Evan! I'm seeing John!"

"I know, and it's the damnedest thing, Moira. I suddenly want you."

"You only want me because I am seeing someone else," she retorted, thrown by his sincerity. His blue eyes full of warmth, of sensual interest that made her highly uncomfortable. "I am seeing John," she repeated, as if that would be enough to curb his interest. It should have been.

"I know," Evan repeated, undaunted, "but we both know that won't last. In fact it's about to end, isn't it? Why else would he be chatting up Weir? Yeah, in the hallway. They were mighty cozy, Moira," he confided, stepping close to her again. Moira backed up but hit the table. The computer beeped in protest. "Come on, Moira. A guy like that? You really think he will maintain an interest in you? Especially now that he's had you?"

Moira glared. Ignoring her own misgivings that Evan was giving voice to, her own doubts. "He has. He does. He's moved in." She knew John would be pissed at her saying the words aloud, but at that moment she didn't care.

"Really?"

"Really," she confirmed to his skepticism. "So back off, okay? We're done. Like that. With that. I'm seeing John."

Evan frowned. Touched her arm again, fingers closing on her flesh. "Fine. For now we'll play it like that, for as long as it lasts, which won't be long, believe me. Then you and I will—"

The door opened. "Moira, I need your input on oh. Am I interrupting something?" Carson stood in the doorway, staring at the odd tableau of Evan and Moira.

"Not at all, Carson!" Moira shoved past Evan, grabbed the pad of paper and headed for him quickly. "What did you need?"

Carson's gaze lingered on Evan a moment. "I'd like you to see this." He gestured, stepping aside for her to exit the room. She did so swiftly, clutching the pad of paper to her chest like a shield. He strolled beside her.

"It's not the, the autopsy, is it?" she asked softly, trying to regain her composure. "Just the thought of that is making me feel queasy."

"No, love. I'm done with that. There was really no need. We know what killed those poor people. And who. But I am glad I did one anyway. In there." He ushered her into the medical lab. Moira relaxed seeing the tables were devoid of Todd's victims. "Are you sure everything's all right?" the doctor asked.

"Huh?" Moira had been standing, frozen, thoughts miles away. "Oh. Yes. What is it? The thing you wanted me to see," she clarified.

"This. Take a look."

Moira moved to the counter. Set her pad of paper aside and peered into the microscope. She twisted the knob to bring the slide into focus. To see the frenetic activity occurring at a microscopic scale. A tiny war between cells, one stained bright blue. "Absorption?"

"Yes."

"Is this from the, the victims?"

"Yes."

"But they were drained dry!" she exclaimed, meeting his gaze. "Every cell was dead or dying, right? How?"

"My guess? The enzyme…stained blue as you can see. A residual amount that is just enough to trigger cellular regeneration. It won't last and I'm not talking zombies or anything but all the same…"

"Cellular regeneration and absorption of dead tissues into live ones," she remarked, looking back through the lens to see the tiny war. "Wow."

Carson smiled. "Yes, wow. They were inert, but when I applied a small electrical current, well, you see the results. This could be a medical breakthrough, except I don't have enough of the enzyme to test and there could be desultory results from prolonged exposure. Tell me, would the insect DNA have anything to do with that?

Moira considered. Met his gaze. "I'm not sure. It must be the source of the enzyme, because it certainly isn't in the human genome. This bug is from another galaxy so anything is theoretically possible. There are some regenerative properties in insects and reptiles, but nothing quite like this and certainly nothing this large. What I really need is a bug specimen so we can fully sequence the DNA and then isolate the oh." Moira's phone was ringing. She smiled, shrugged and pulled it from her pocket. Saw the caller and smiled again. "Yes?"

"Do they have the location yet?" John's voice came over, sounding tired and exasperated.

Moira replied, "I'm fine, John, thanks for asking, by the way." She stepped across the room as Carson shook his head, amused.

John smiled at her tone, her words. He was sitting in his parked car, baking in the heat and staring at the precinct building he has just exited. "I'm on a clock here, Moira. Do I need to remind you?"

"No. Sorry, John. They don't have it yet, but they are getting closer."

"Not yet? What's taking so long? McKay should have that stuff figured out by now!"

"Give him time, John. He's still in shock, okay?"

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry. So…what about you?"

"I have the preliminary analysis for you. John, um, are you, are you coming back here now?"

"No, I have to go round up these gawkers and question the…" he paused. There was something in her voice. "Um, I mean, yeah, I can, I guess. I need that analysis."

"Thanks," she said, the relief in her voice audible. "Could you grab some doughnuts on your way here?"

"Moira, I'm in the middle of a murder investigation not to mention a manhunt and I don't have time for—"

She interrupted his irate tone. "Wraith hunt, actually, not a manhunt, John, and be sure to get the ones with sprinkles. See you in twenty." She ended the call before he could protest or refuse. She smiled, imagining his annoyance. Looked up to see Carson smirking. "What?" she asked.


	7. Chapter 7

Violets in Vegas: Sunday Morning Coming Down7

_Moira told me. I knew she would figure out what Todd was doing, what he wanted. I knew she could shift through all that nonsense and babble and those damn nursery rhymes and divine his real meanings, his real words under all the shit he was spouting. She didn't think she could, but I knew she could. I knew she could analyze that alien mind and figure it out. She told me exactly what he was going to do. Exactly what he intended._

_I didn't completely understand until it was too late._

**10:00am**

"Sprinkles." John dumped the box of doughnuts onto the table. Half embarrassed, half amused, pissed he scowled as he startled her as she sat there, immersed in a pad of paper. He was glad they were alone. The cold air wafted along him, chilling the heat from the day that had wrapped his body in a cocoon of stifling layers. It cooled his sweat as it trickled along the nape of his neck, under his arms, down his back, and sides.

Moira smiled, seeing the box. She stood. "Thank you, John." She opened it to see various varieties of doughnuts, including ones with white icing and colored sprinkles. She stepped round the table, moved to him suddenly and engulfed him in a hug.

John's arms went loosely around her as his brow rose in bafflement. "Moira? Um, they're only doughnuts," he reasoned.

Moira was silent. She couldn't explain it. She just needed to drink in his solid surety. The solid, lean warmth of his body. His strength. The feel of his arms around her. The smell of him, a mixture of sweat and cologne and laundry and alcohol which made her nose wrinkle. She stepped back a little to view his handsome face, his expression full of puzzlement. "You've been drinking?"

"Yeah. So? I got your damn doughnuts." He freed her, moved to sit at the table. "And don't go reading anything into this either, baby. They're just doughnuts." He watched her circle the table, sit next to him. She touched the pad, eying it, but a soft smile played along her lips, and John felt ridiculously pleased with himself. But he scowled. "Analysis?"

She procured a doughnut. Took a bite, chewed and swallowed. "There's a—"

"Whoa!" He held up a hand. "We're on a clock, so give me the Cliff notes version, all right? No long scientific psychological babble or mumbo jumbo because I had enough of that science stuff from McKay, all right? The short version. Go."

Moira frowned. Took another bite of the doughnut and took her time to eat it. Enjoying his annoyance. "You," she said at last.

John waited, but she was silent. Eating. He tapped his fingers on the table, considering giving her a spanking. His lips quirked at the thought, but instead he grabbed a doughnut from the box and took a bite. Chewed, swallowed. Licked his lips. But still she was silent. "Well?" he snapped, losing patience.

Moira smiled at him. Smiled at his ire. Finding it hot, sexy. His brow furrowed, green eyes narrowed. The shadow of scruff along his strong jaw and chin darker as the day progressed. His white shirt was clinging to every line of his torso, from what she could see where his jacket was open. "You wanted it short, Sheppard. I thought you liked quickies."

John replied, "Funny, O'Meara. I do like quickies, now and then. Well?"

She sobered. Became abruptly serious. "You. It's all about you, John. Well, mostly. From what I can piece together, from what I can glean about this species, about this particular subject. His plan is simple, really. Two-fold. To set up the invasion and to kill you."

John stared at her. "Huh."

She pushed the pad of paper towards him. "It's all here. You were right. Among all the nonsense and rhymes and bad poetry, but he only spoke those things to you, John. He only said the things that matter to you. But you said not to elaborate." Nevertheless she did. "Todd is convinced you are the only one who can stop him. Who can stop the invasion. He has been planning this since day one, all of it. Although separated from the Hive mentality he has considerable ingenuity, considerable skill at getting what he wants, at manipulating people to do what he wants. Even manipulating those other Wraith. But he is only fulfilling a higher purpose, a destiny, if you will. I believe he allowed himself to be captured, to learn all about us. The enemy in plain sight, if you will. Until the time was right."

"Huh," John said again, but it was more a noise than a word.

Moira leaned towards him. Touched his hand as it rested on his thigh. Her gaze locked with his. "John, you can't lead this team. You can't be out there because you are the target. The primary target is, is Earth, but Todd's personal, primary target is you. It's all there." She shoved the pad closer to him again.

"Huh."

She frowned. "Damn it, John, is that all you have to say? Well?"

John shrugged. "Thanks, Moira." He stood. "I better see how McKay is progressing on that damn location. We only have—"

"John!" She rushed after him as he strolled to the door. She grabbed his arm and turned him to her. "Damn it, John, didn't you hear a word I just said? You can't do this! You can't!"

John smiled. Her brown eyes were full of anger, of worry, and he felt his cock stir. "Whatever you do, baby, don't start an argument because, frankly, I don't have time to…oh wait, maybe I do have time for a quickie on the table."

"John!" She hit his arm. "Damn it! You can't go out there! You are the target! He wants you!"

"The question is do you want me? Hmm?

"John! You can't—"

He pulled her into his arms, spun and shoved her into the wall. Kissed her, shoving his body along hers. Along every soft curve as his mouth devoured hers. She murmured, pushing, then pulling as his kiss took her breath away, took all her words and anger and turned it all to more passionate concerns. He drew back, hold gentling on her arms. "If I had the time I would take you on the table, baby, doughnuts be damned, but I don't have the time. No, no, don't!" He ran his finger along her lips. "I heard every word, Moira, but I have to lead this. I have to be out there, and if he wants to come after me, fine. Fine by me so I can catch the bastard and kill him. In fact I'd prefer he come after me but we have to find that damn location."

The door opened. "Moira, I've just heard oh. Again?"

John freed her, turned to see Carson in the doorway. "Again? What the hell does that mean?"

"Nothing. Carson, what is it?" Moira asked, but John blocked her from moving.

"Again? Were you with some other guy in here like this? Like this?" He glared, jealousy flaring, throwing him off-balance for a moment.

"No! Carson, what is it?" Moira asked, moving past John.

"Sorry, love. I've just word. Keller's funeral is going to be at eleven."

"What?"

"What?" John echoed. "That's awful fast."

"They had plans. All of them, in case of this kind of…er, incident. Best to be quick about it, I guess." Carson shrugged.

"It would be a closed casket anyway," John dourly noted. Glanced at Moira. "Again? Were you in here with Evan? Did he hurt you? I swear if that—"

"No! It wasn't like that! We were arguing, that's all. He told me you were chatting up Weir! Were you?" she blurted, her own jealousy fueled by his.

"Yeah." He turned back to Carson. "Guess I shouldn't ask about that damn location yet then."

"What? You were? John!" She hit his arm.

He met her gaze. Smiled. "What? It wasn't like that. We were talking, that's all," he mimicked her words, her tone. Dismissed her as he looked back at the doctor. "I have to see how much progress he's made. Where?"

"Physics lab."

John nodded. Stepped to the door and past the doctor. "Oh, have a doughnut, but leave the sprinkled ones for Moira. She likes variety, it seems."

"So do you, apparently!" she shot back at him, not knowing whether to be angry or amused.


	8. Chapter 8

Violets in Vegas: Sunday Morning Coming Down8

_I was an idiot. Baiting her. Doubting her. Flirting with another woman in the same fucking building. I couldn't help myself. Nor could she. Maybe it was to distract us from the coming events that would change the world, change our lives forever. I shouldn't have rushed Rodney. I should have respected his grief, but I needed that information and didn't care what it cost as long as I got it. I was convinced I could stop Todd. I was convinced I was in charge, that I could get a step ahead of him, even act as bait if necessary to draw him out. _

_I was wrong._

The physics lab was a mess. Scientists were everywhere, white lab coats flapping like wings as they moved in anxious gestures from table to table to table, from computer to computer to computer. Voices rising and falling, shouting and arguing and not making any sense to John as he entered the room. Rodney sat in the midst of it all, staring at a computer and shaking his head as he held a phone pressed to his ear.

"No no no no no!" He swiveled in the chair suddenly. Pointed. "That component cannot be activated so it wasn't comparable to the ones he took! Use only what he took and build whatever it is he built! No Ancient devices because he can't activate them! God, do I have to everything myself! Come on!" He swung back to the computer, spoke into the phone. "And you're sure? Wonderful. Keep monitoring!" He slammed the phone into its cradle. Felt someone towering over him. "What?" he snapped.

"Location?" John asked mildly. A calm, still presence in the swarm of activity and noise.

"Huh? Oh, not yet! NASA's reporting an increase in solar flares, which is nothing out of the ordinary except for the frequency. They won't hit Earth until tonight and tomorrow and would normally just effect radio waves but with this wavering magnetic field and the tear in the rift and whatever Todd is building or has built it could be advantageous for him and disastrous for us." He took a breath. "I've narrowed the search parameters but until I can get an idea at least of what he's building I won't have a location."

"Great. We're on a clock, Rodney."

"I know! Don't you think I know? If I had more competent help I might be done already! I need Radek, damn it, for all his faults he was more competent than this lot no no no!" He stood, grabbed a device that resembled a screen covered with vines and smashed it onto the floor. All voices stopped. All of the scientists froze. "Not that! Whatever he is making it doesn't require a screen of any kind, just a nominal interface with an enormous capacity for power!"

"Rodney, I need that location ASAP," John reminded. He could see the strain the other man was under. The strain of the death of his wife was the least of it as Wraith technology littered the room. As maps of Vegas, of the Earth, of space filled the computer screens.

"I know! Damn it, I'm trying! Why don't you go out there and find the son of a bitch! Isn't that what you're good at? Finding killers?"

"I am. But I need a location ASAP. And if you figure out what he's building that would be helpful as well."

"You think? Get out!" Rodney turned back to his console.

"Sheppard, lay off him!" Richard approached, frowning. "He's doing the best he can under the most trying of circumstances!"

"We all are, Woolsey. I'm sorry, but all that means nothing in light of what could be happening right now," John stated, but he didn't sound apologetic. He sounded impatient. "I've got men on every power station. Nothing's happening. I've got men patrolling the city and so far there's nothing! Why can't we track this damn thing? Oh, that's right. You didn't put a fucking tracking device in the fucking alien!"

"And I will regret that until the day I die, all right?" Richard snapped. "We should be able to locate him using Beckett's—"

"Should be isn't good enough! Why can't I find a fucking Wraith in this city? He should stand out like a sore thumb! Even if he is trying to blend in like that other one but he's not. He's gone to ground somewhere! Give me that fucking location for the most likely target!" His phone buzzed. He snatched it. "Yeah?" he snapped. Listened. "On my way." He shoved the phone into his pocket. "Fuck. Got another body. I want this intel in one hour!" He stalked from the room.

Richard followed. "You'll have it when we get it, Sheppard! Sheppard!" he called, but John ignored him, striding along the hallway.

John stomped into the conference room where had left Moira. She was sitting at the table, studying a console, Carson beside her. "Got another body. Looks like Todd is on the move." Both looked up at his terse words. "How often does this thing need to feed?"

Carson and Moira exchanged a glance. Both started to answer at once. Both stopped, eyed each other again, then John. "Judging from the physiology I would say weekly, perhaps. But since Todd was starved he's probably making up for lost time," Carson said.

"The longevity of these creatures could extend into hundreds of years," Moira added. "They don't need to feed as we do, on a daily basis, that is. And since they can hibernate for extended periods of time their need for sustenance is even less than ours."

"So he's killing for the hell of it. For the fun of it. To bait me."

"Or to send you on a wild goose chase through Vegas while he does what he needs to do," Carson noted.

"Or to get you somewhere isolated because you are the target, John," she reminded. Frowning.

John nodded. "Okay, then. I've dealt with kind of exhibitionist killer before, except he was human. Carson, get me any weakness in these things, anything we can use against it. Moira, I'll meet you at your place around ten forty-five where we can change for the funeral, all right?" She nodded, about to speak when he continue. "And I need you to figure out some kind of plausible cover story if we all get through this day. I gotta go. Another body."

Todd walked the streets of Las Vegas, Nevada, USA, planet Earth, and marveled. Never had he imagined such a rich feeding ground. There were humans everywhere you looked. Every variety and some he had never seen back in his own galaxy. All ages, both sexes, and he felt almost giddy with the menu choices available to him. This place alone would easily fill a Hive ship and sustain it for months. The whole planet could sustain an entire fleet. And more.

Their technology was more advanced, much more than any human society in his galaxy, yet was lacking in many ways. Primitive compared to his own, compared to the hated Ancients and their vaunted Atlantis. The Earthling's crude energy devices and communication devices would serve for now. He found the big boxes displaying people in various tasks and adventures and shouting amusing. Television, they called it. Although a shopping channel offering a detangling product for hair did catch his eye. Clearly this society had too much free time on its hands.

That would soon change.

He found he could walk the streets with little notice, even though he wasn't even trying to blend in like the first Wraith had. He wore a dark garment called a hoodie and it covered his hair and most of his face. His prison coveralls might not be the height of fashion but they did serve to make most humans give him a wide berth. He kept his hands shoved into the pockets of the hoodie. Kept his head lowered. His eyes shrank to narrow slits against the glare of the sun. This place was hot, too hot for his comfort but he would endure.

He had endured worse at the hands of his captors. At the hands of John Sheppard.

Todd smiled. Soon he would have his revenge, and it would be sweet. Very sweet.

He paused, staring at the neon lights, the glaring signs. All that power humming and running the city, the buildings. It would soon be at his disposal. It was an embarrassment of riches, really, this world, these humans, this unlimited yet crude source of power. He smiled. He would be the one to make way for the rest. The queens would surely reward him for opening this wondrous place to their fleets, and he could pick which one he would serve.

Then they would feed.

And feed.

And feed.


	9. Chapter 9

Violets in Vegas: Sunday Morning Coming Down9

_It should have worked. I had men in every place. Every possible target was on high alert. Security was increased. Cops were patrolling the streets. But still the bodies were turning up, still there were no witnesses. Still Todd roamed the city at large and I couldn't do a damn thing but follow his trail and wait for my team to give me the edge I needed. We were tightening the net. He wouldn't get out of Vegas without being noticed. I was certain of this. I was certain that our net would trap him in the city._

_Problem was he wasn't even in it._

John stood, hands on hips. Police were holding back the crowd of onlookers, gawkers and reporters. The heat of mid-morning beat down on him but he ignored it. Staring through his sunglasses at the body sprawled on the sidewalk in front of the Mirage. The volcano was inactive, only utilized at night and it cast a long shadow over the corpse.

It was a woman this time. Age indeterminate but judging by the clothes John would guess she had been in her twenties. The shorts and skimpy top were colorful, but garish now against the shriveled skin and dried flesh. The face was a mask of horror, frozen in a silent scream, white hair curling around the myriad wrinkles and lines that streaked the once youthful demeanor. A pair of gold earrings sparkled even in the shadows.

"Witnesses?" John asked wearily, already knowing the answer.

"None. Her friends say she was going to meet them here. She was only five minutes late when they came out to look and found this. Shep, what the hell is going on?"

John shrugged, met the other man's perplexed gaze. "Hell if I know, Sayles. You round up the usual—"

"Detective Sheppard!" John winced at the familiar voice, turned to see Chuck Campbell making a bee line for him. Somehow the reporter always managed to evade the police line and get right to the murder scene. "Is this the return of the Vegas Vampire? Can you confirm or deny the presence of yet another serial killer in Vegas? What is LVPD so anxious to cover up?"

John scowled. He shoved the digital recorder away from his face. Glared at the other man. "Get outta here, Campbell! This is an on-going investigation and you are obstructing!"

"The way I see it, detective, you are the one obstructing! The public has a right to know if they are in danger!" He glanced at the body. Whistled. "Wow! What the heck could possibly drain a human body like that?"

"Never mind! Get him outta here!" John gave the hapless reporter a shove.

"You can't do this! This is police brutality! I've got witnesses!" Chuck shouted, as he was bodily removed from the scene. "You'll be hearing from my lawyer, Shep! You will! You can't stop the press! You can't cover up the truth! You can't save them all!"

John spun on his heels, but the reporter was gone, lost in the mass of people all trying to see the body, to get a photo. "Fuck," he muttered. "Clear the scene! Where the hell is DeMouy?" he snapped, looking round, but another coroner was making his way to the crime scene. His phone buzzed. "Yeah?" he asked.

"Shep! Got another one across town, at a liquor store called Sateda's, on the—"

"I know it. On my way." John ended the call. "Crap," he muttered.

Rodney ran the simulation again as he sat hunched over the computer keyboard. His eyes were glued to the images unfolding on the screen. "I've got the power ratios designated and three probable scenarios but I'm missing something. I have input every possible device he could conceivably create from what he stole but depending upon what he adds to it out there…" He broke off, glancing up at the television screen across the room. A story was running about a tornado that had destroyed a town in Iowa, practically wiping it off the map.

"Given you have three options try narrowing it down to the best one," Carson offered. "We know he what he wants to do. You almost know how he can do it. All we need is a location."

"You sound like Sheppard," Rodney noted, but sighed. "I'm close."

"You'll get there. It just takes time."

"Time? Time's the one thing we don't have! Each option is bad going to worse and if I can't figure this out then we're screwed!"

"Rodney, take a breath. Stop working. You really shouldn't be working right now."

"Of course I should be working right now! I'm the only one who can figure this out! Even if we do manage to catch Todd we may already be too late!"

"It can wait, Rodney."

"No, it can't wait! It can't! What are you doing here anyway?"

Carson placed a hand on the other man's shoulder. "It's time."

"Time? Time for what? For…oh." Realization crashed upon Rodney. A wave of anguish and guilt as he stood, bracing himself to endure his wife's funeral. He glanced at the computer as it was still running simulations, then followed the doctor out of the room.

John was standing in the middle of a liquor store. Smashed bottles were everywhere, proliferating like fallen stars as the shattered glass caught the fluorescent light and reflected it back to the ceiling. At least it was cool in here, and the scents of alcohol were strong. Comforting. John stepped across the shards to where the body was sprawled. A man, or what was left of one. His phone buzzed. He sighed, checked it. "Yeah?"

"John, where the hell are you?" Moira sounded irate. "You need to get here now! I've got your suit laid out for you so get that fine, fine ass of yours home and into it!"

John smiled, but was silent, waiting. He saw DeMouy heading for him, grim expression on her face. He gestured, stepped around the body, phone still pressed to his ear. He glanced round at the destruction. A cop was taking the owner's statement, but John knew like all the rest there would be no witnesses. But he glanced up to see the surveillance camera. The red light was still blinking, still recording.

"John?" Moira swore, realizing. "I've got your suit laid out for you so get that fine, fine ass of yours to my house and into it!" she corrected, rolling her eyes at his utter obstinacy.

John smirked. Her tone was making him jerk in his pants. He wondered if they would have time for some rough sex before the funeral. "Better, baby. I'm at a crime scene. Two now, but I am on my way, all right?" He paused a moment. "Oh, and Moira?"

"Yes, John?" she asked, with a long-suffering sigh that made him smile.

"Table that anger for later usage. Fuck you are making me hard."

"Shut up, John!"

"And no tie."

"What? Of course you are wearing a tie! It's a funeral, detective. If you are a good boy I might tie you up with it later. Get here now, will you? We can't be late. John…two? Another one? Where? Is there some sort of pattern?"

"Yeah, another one. And no, I can't discern a pattern yet. It's like he's out on the town enjoying himself. First a casino, now a liquor store. I bet a damn strip joint is next. And no tie…unless you were serious about tying me up with it." He ended the call, looked up to see Danville staring at him. "You got this?"

"Yeah. Where ya going, Shep? A party?"

"No. A funeral."


End file.
